The Lions of St. Mark. They're always watching over Venice...silent winged guardians. No matter what, if it be storms, sun, darkness, bitter cold, or scorching fire...I don't feel like I have a guardian. More like I am a guardian. A winged lion to all the people who touch my life. I really should know better, but as much as I try to distance myself from emotion and look at things objectively. Emotion creeps in, and my duty becomes so much harder. I think it's time I left guardianship up to the statues, and others more qualified.I'm not coming back... after this post...to this...place I used to spill my heart. It's time to start again...but the story first...
I thought I was doing good job, I've been true to my unpromised promise. Yet, somehow...nobody can see the words pounding thru my head. They can't see them on my face. So many words, that just won't allow themselves to be spoken, so full with them it burns and aches. But I won't say them. Because I can't...I can't do that...I'm supposed to be strong...unyielding rock, remember? I can't have angry, hurt, lost words...statues aren't allow to have feelings. No, my words have no hold or purpose anymore.
Maybe they never did. Weird. That's the way my life goes...people look and go: Whoa, she's really kinda cool, or mysterious, or some other stupid remark. Until they actually taste what I feel, and the things I see...then they run scared to death of the intensity I live in...things I've had to push away from and try to move past. Things...so many things...he was more right than he knows when he said, "Golden reminded him of me." That song...I am what I am...always a guardian never the guarded.
Maybe moving is the best thing...cause I don't think I can stay here. It hurts, God, it hurts. And it SHOULDN'T! It should no longer play in my head, my heart should have stopped acting as tho my blood were too thick to flow, and this stupid burn should have drowned in the ice...so why haven't they? How come I can't retire my wings like everyone else does when life is hard?! Why am I not allowed to have weakness?! If I chip away this stone surrounding, and it crumbles to dust...what then? Will I be able to continue living, because every time I let myself trust, let those thoroughly cultivated defenses down...I remember why I put them up in the first place. Since no one looks out for me, I have to look after myself...which means avoiding injury not nursing the resulting wounds.
Now it's gotten worse, instead of better. Mirrors are my bane...I can't believe what I see anymore. My face is so young, and I'm healthy, but my eyes...they're just so..sad...I can't bear look at them. They reflect back at me what I try so desperately to hide. But, for all the angels in heaven, I couldn't figure out why I felt that way!!! Then a stray thought which became a rather deep thought clicked everything into place:
It's because I ignored the one rule of guardianship: being human. I let someone get me out of myself, out of my body, outside the barriers, and then they tried snapped me back into place. Only they didn't put me back in the same way or even all the way, they put me at an off-angle, and then everything rubbed against everything else until my statue broke. Wounds young and old poured out razor-sharp at my feet. Then I saw it. Why the burdens of those winged lions felt so heavy to me...because I was not the invincible stone...no, I was forged of glass, beautiful but not meant to last.
So now, my story comes to the present, staring at the pieces thinking, "What the HELL am I gonna do now?" This is my decision:
Those glittering shards of my life must remain here, and I must leave my guardian self behind, and go. Back to the place that used to be my home...the place where I can hear the earth breath around me...in me. I'll be the outsider...again...but at least I won't be a statue. The ocean will be my rhythm, and inspiration. Then I'll let God lay my path, since I don't seem to know what I'm doing. But I will keep this one piece of myself...my one beautiful glass memory. Even if it's the sharpest piece, and with every visit cuts a fresh notch...it's one of the only memories worth saving.
Love, Krista
aka
Crimson Gold or just C.G.
Gold Velvet
V (campname)
V (from V for Vendetta)
The Phantom
Sweeney Todd
Sean Connery
Pixie,
and any other alias I created, or was given to me, since I mean for this to be my final post, all parts of me must agree.
P.S. To anyone who reads this, I will not respond to any comments about what I meant by the above message. If you know then you know, if not then I don't want you to know.
